


my fur has turned to skin

by Anonymous



Series: moon called [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Moral Ambiguity, NHL is even more morally bankrupt than last time, Pack Cuddles, Team as Family, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:11:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23058400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Svech gets hurt, it gets worse before it gets better.
Relationships: Andrei Svechnikov & Carolina Hurricanes Ensemble, Andrei Svechnikov & Jordan Martinook
Series: moon called [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1651210
Kudos: 55
Collections: anonymous





	my fur has turned to skin

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back!
> 
> This may be ooc because I've never written the Canes before and I'm not super knowledgeable about them but it felt like they would fit this concept. It feels silly to say that this is an au when it's literally about werewolves, but obviously this game never happened. I picked the Lightning because Carolina is done playing them for the year. 
> 
> Warnings: Abuse of power, moral ambiguity, broken bones, see endnotes for details 
> 
> Standard disclaimer, this is a work of fiction inspired by real people. It does not reflect real life at all and if you know anyone mentioned personally, please do not read

When Svech goes down and doesn’t get up, Jordan’s first instinct is to launch himself at the offending Lighting player. But Svech stops him in his tracks with a strangled sob. 

“Marty, _ mne bolna, _ hurts,” Svech chokes out, his accent thick and his words slow and shaky. 

Revenge can wait. Jordan drops to his knees next to Svech, who’s losing the battle for composure and with the change. His eyes flicker between yellow and brown and his nails look more wolf than human. 

Jordan puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him still until a trainer can check him out, which is when he notices the unnatural bend in Svech’s arm, just above his cuff. “You’re good. You’re okay,” he lies. 

The trainer arrives, escorted by Willy, and gently pushes Jordan out of the way. 

“Is it bad?” Willy asks, quietly.

Jordan nods, unable to speak for a moment. Svech is tough as nails but he looks so fragile laying there on the ice. “Arm’s broken for sure.”

“Fuck,” Willy mutters. “And he won’t be able to heal it either.” 

“Fucking bullshit.” Jordan is sure his eyes are changing. He tries to get it under control. They still have about five minutes left in the game. 

The trainer helps a shaky Svech to his feet and he glides slowly to the bench, then down the tunnel, hunched over, arm to his chest. 

“Don’t take any stupid penalties,” Willy warns.

“I won’t,” says Jordan, but he’s already thinking that sending a message isn’t stupid. It’s practically necessary. No one can hurt Svech like that and get away with it.

* * *

Not only is the guy who boarded Svech not assessed a major, the Lightning manage to score twice, so no one is in a good mood when they troop off the ice with an 3-2 loss. Jordan barely waits for a nod of permission before heading off to find Svech, rookie Marty trailing after him. 

He can hear raised voices as he rounds the corner to the trainers’ and under that, soft noises of distress. He breaks into a run, not checking to make sure Nečas is keeping up. Something is wrong. 

When he yanks the door open, no one acknowledges him. Svech is curled up on an exam table, arm still cradled to his chest, eyes bright yellow and glazed over with pain. His arm is swollen and misshapen. The skin under his cuff is blotchy red and grey and he’s whimpering softly, tears leaking from his eyes. 

Next to Svech, the trainer is arguing with a man in a navy blue suit, with an NHL Council pin on the lapel, Davidson. Jordan has to suppress a growl. Getting himself suspended by mouthing off to the council rep. won’t help anyone. He tries to breathe through it. 

“I don’t care if he has ears and a tail,” the trainer snaps. “I’m not sending him anywhere without reducing that arm and administering pain meds. The cuff needs to come off.” 

“The rules clearly state that unless it is a life-threatening emergency, the cuff stays on,” Davidson counters. 

“His arm is in two pieces,” says the trainer flatly. “Look at him, he’s on the verge of silver poisoning.” 

“If he can’t get himself under control, that is not the League’s problem,” Davidson says coldly. 

“And if the press got wind of this?” the trainer hisses.

“You wouldn’t dare--” The rest of Davidson’s response is drowned out by a sudden keening sob from Svech that makes Jordan’s skin crawl. “Get a hold of yourself Mr. Svechnikov,” Davidson snaps. 

“Fuck you,” Svech grits out, breathlessly biting back another cry. 

Jordan takes an instinctive step towards them but before he can do anything, Davidson slaps Svech across the face. “Enough dramatics.”

Between one breath and the next, Jordan has Davidson pinned up against the wall with an arm across his throat. “Don’t touch him!”

Nečas gasps from the door. 

“Get Willy,” Jordan orders. Nečas goes.

“You will regret--” 

So much for not pissing off the Council. Jordan presses down with his forearm, not hard enough to cut off air but hard enough to serve as a warning. He glances over his shoulder at the trainer. “Help Svech.”

The trainer looks quickly between Jordan and Davidson, still pressed up against the wall, before turning to Svech, who is nearly hyperventilating. “I’m going to take the cuff off,” he says softly. “But I need you to listen, Andrei. You can’t change until the bone is aligned. It’s going to hurt a lot, but it’s very important that you wait. Can you do that for me?”

Svech seems almost beyond words but with difficulty he nods. 

“You will be hearing from the League,” hisses Davidson, wheezing a little as Jordan presses down harder. 

“Shut up,” Jordan says, never looking away from Svech. 

Svech’s nails lengthen to claws the moment the cuff is removed but he holds back the rest of the change, shaking with effort and pain. The noise he makes when the trainer forces his bones back into place is probably loud enough to be heard out in the stands. Within seconds, the change washes over him, leaving behind a scrawny pale gray wolf in its wake. He tries to stand but his front leg buckles underneath him and he curls up into a ball, whining softly. 

“Marty, what the fuck! We heard--” Willy stops short, Jaccob and Nečas on his heels. 

“Is that Svech?” Jaccob demands.

At the same time, Willy steps forward. “Let him go Marty.”

“He hit Svech,” Jordan says, not backing down. 

“What?”

“He hit him. Svech was hurting and he slapped him across the face because he was making too much noise.”

Willy’s eyes flash gold. “I’ll take care of him. You take care of our boy.” 

Jordan reluctantly backs off once he’s sure that Willy has a good hold on Davidson 

“That’s Svech,” says Jaccob, a statement this time. 

The trainer nods. 

“Fuck,” Jaccob mutters. Svech whines. “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong Svechy. You’re fine.” 

“Damn right he is,” says Jordan, closing the distance between them. He doesn’t wait for permission from the trainer, just reaches out and pets Svech’s head. Svech pushes into it like he’s begging for more. It makes Jordan inexplicably angry. 

Willy half drags Davidson out of the room, gesturing for Nečas to follow. “Go tell Coach and Staalsie what's going on.” 

Nečas leaves at a run. 

“How are we gonna explain his arm healing?” Jaccob asks, running his hands through Svech’s fur as he talks.

“Oh it won’t,” the trainer says. “There’s too much silver in his system. It’ll be fractured at the very least, maybe even still broken.” 

“He doesn’t even get to fucking heal?” Jordan half snarls. His nails lengthen but he doesn’t lose control. 

The trainer doesn’t blink. “With the amount of silver that thing was pumping into his bloodstream, he’ll probably still have a bruise on his face.” 

“Does he need to stay here?” Jaccob asks.

The trainer shrugs. “He’s certainly not going to the ER now and no painkillers until he changes back.” 

“We’ll set him up somewhere comfortable then. He should be with his Pack right now.”

“It’ll be safe to put the cuff back on in the morning,” the trainer says, hesitating a little. “He shouldn’t leave the building until then. 

“We’ll hole up in the den,” says Jaccob calmly. “Can you help him Marty?”

Jordan scratches Svech’s soft ears. “You gonna let me carry you?”

Svech whines forcing himself up on three wobbly legs. 

Jordan scoops him into his arms before he can protest. Up close, he can feel how Svech is shaking. It makes him want to growl and grind his teeth. But he pushes it all away and focuses on holding Svech tight to his chest.

* * *

By the time Willy reappears, Jaccob has shifted to curl up close to Svech, who’s fitfully sleeping, head half in Jordan’s lap. Willy’s not alone, behind him Dougie is on crutches, steadied by Sebastian. 

“Who’s watching Davidson?” Jordan demands. 

“Staalsie’s watching him,” Willy reassures him. “Teuvo’s making a few calls. We’re gonna take care of it. How’s Svech?”

Sebastian helps Dougie sit, putting his crutches against the wall. Jordan moves so Dougie can get a hand in on Svech’s head. “He’s sleeping, finally. Trainer said his arm will still be broken when he changes back.”

Willy hums. “Don’t like it, but it makes things easier.”

“I’ve never seen him in wolf form before,” Dougie says quietly. “He’s so soft.” 

“I’m gonna check in with Teuvo,” Sebastian says. “I’ll be back to get you when we’re ready Dougie.” 

“Thanks for having our backs, Fish,” says Jordan. 

Sebastian taps his heart. “Always.” 

“You should change, Marty,” Willy says. “I’ll stay.” 

Jordan could argue but he doesn’t want to. He lets the change wash over and pull him under. The last thing he remembers is falling asleep to the rhythm of Svech’s heartbeat.

* * *

When Jordan wakes up, Svech is human. 

Jordan quickly changes back himself, panting with effort. “How you feeling?” he asks.

Svech shrugs one shoulder. His eyes are sharper but he’s shaking slightly and there’s the shadow of a bruise on his cheek. “Can think clearer. Pain better, less silver.” 

On Svech’s other side, Dougie is sprawled out, leg on a pillow. Willy is next to him, in wolf form. Sebastian is sprawled on top of Willy, legs tangled up with Teuvo. Jordan has a faint recollection of Sebastian passing out when the spellwork was over. Willy opens one eye as Jordan moves to get more comfortable. None of the casters even twitch. 

“The spell really took it out of them,” says Jaccob. He’s sitting on Jordan’s other side, a cup of coffee in his hand. 

Svech looks down. “Gonna be trouble for team.” 

“No one’s going to know,” Jaccob reassures him. “They wiped out the last 24 hours. Teuvo called in a favor with Rask and got Chara to read over the spellwork. Plus, Raanta suggested some tweaks to boost the power. No one is getting in trouble.” 

“Should not let Dougie cast when he’s hurt,” Svech says, almost petulant. 

“Like we could stop him,” Jordan responds.

“If anyone finds out …” Svech trails off. 

Jordan knows why he’s worried. If anyone found out, it’d be worse than bad. Bad enough that Svech changed and Jordan assaulted a Council officer. The spell is enough to get them all thrown in jail, at best. “No one will find out,” he promises. “How’s your arm?”

“Better,” is all Svech will say. 

His arm does look less swollen. The grey blotches from yesterday are still there but his arm isn’t visibly misshapen. It’s strange to see him without the cuff. Jordan wonders how it must feel to have a taste of that freedom knowing that the cuff is going back on the minute he leaves this room. 

After the trainers come to bring Svech for x-rays, Jordan asks Jaccob what he thinks.

“I honestly don’t know how he stays positive every day,” Jaccob says rubbing his eyes. 

“You really think this spell is gonna hold up?” Jordan asks. “Because if it doesn’t we’re fucked.” 

“Most complicated spellwork I’ve ever seen,” Jaccob says. “If Chara and Raanta both said it was good, on top of our guys …” 

“Fish okay?” 

“He was just tired,” Jaccob says. “Teuvo wasn’t that worried, so he’s fine.” 

“Game tomorrow is gonna be hell,” Jordan remarks

“Gonna need to cover Svech’s bruise before media.” 

Jordan growls, remembering. “Memory wipe is too good for that asshat.” 

“Boston and Arizona are gonna spread the word to watch out for him.”

“You should’ve been there,” Jordan says. “The way he hit Svech, like he was an annoyance, for crying. I wanted to rip his throat out right then and there.” 

“It’s crazy,” Jaccob agrees. “It’s like you hear stories about stuff like that happening way back when but you don’t expect it today, even with how bad some things are.”

Willy sits up, having changed while they were talking, careful not to disturb Sebastian too much. “Not in our locker room and not on our team.”

“Talking about me,” says Svech from the doorway, voice unreadable. His arm is in a sling, black brace peeking out over his hand. It must be custom because it fits neatly around the cuff, which is back in place around his wrist. 

“Still broken?” Willy asks. 

“Too swollen for cast,” Svech mumbles. “Go to ER tomorrow. No surgery” 

Jordan whistles.

“At least you avoided surgery,” Jaccob says. 

Svech bites his lip, straightens his shoulders, and takes a deep shaky breath. “I’m sorry lost control, Willy. Put team at risk. Not okay.” 

“I don’t wanna hear any apologies,” Willy says. Svech ducks his head, looking away. “No no, I mean you don’t have anything to be sorry for.” 

“It’s the League’s fault for being so fucking dumb,” Jordan chimes in. 

“Come here,” Willy says, gesturing for Svech to join them. Svech picks his way through the pile of sleeping casters ending up between Jordan and Willy. “You are our priority, not the League’s outdated rules.” 

Svech presses his head into the space between Willy’s neck and shoulder. 

Jordan reaches out and scratches the back of Svech’s neck. “I know you were hurting but I’m glad I got to see you as a wolf,” he half whispers. “Glad you got to be with the Pack like that. Not changing doesn’t make you less a part of us, but I’m glad you got to have that.” 

“Wish it was always like that,” Svech mumbles, muffled. 

He sounds teary and it makes Jordan’s blood boil. From the flash of Willy’s eyes and the look on Jaccob’s face, they feel much the same. 

“It won’t be like this forever,” Willy says quietly. 

“The League is changing,” Jordan adds. “We already got those old idiots yelling about celebrations and lacrosse goals. They look like dumbasses and some day that’s what people will say about this too.”

Svech lets himself be manhandled until he’s laying down between Jordan and Dougie, who’s still asleep, with Willy petting his hair. He closes his eyes and presses into the touch. “Hope so.”

When Svech finally drifts off, Jaccob gets Willy and Jordan coffee before refilling his own cup. “You really think the League is gonna change, Marty?”

Jordan looks down at Svech, who has slipped his good arm protective over Dougie in his sleep. “Hope so.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: The council rep slaps Svech across the face, he is also indifferent to the fact that Svech is hurt and implies that his pain is made up, the team does a spell to erase the council rep's memory without his consent, they do it to protect Svech and Marty, they conclude that this is okay because it is necessary to protect the team.  
Also a note on the minor injuries tag, it's for a broken arm and the initial break is actually pretty serious but because magic it ends up not that bad
> 
> Notes:  
Wolves - Svech, Willy, Marty, Slavin  
Spell Casters - Dougie, Aho, Teuvo  
Humans - Nečas, Staal  
Also mentioned - Tuukka Rask (wolf), Zdeno Chara (caster), Antti Raanta (caster)
> 
> mne bolna - it hurts (me), also I anglicized phonetically the cyrillic is мне больно


End file.
